The Red Tulip
by tectonictigress
Summary: Here, standing with him, she realized the only way she could let go of the past was to truly and honestly forgive the one person she couldn't: herself.


A/N:First fic I wrote! Written for the Dramione Love Mini Fest on LJ. Beta love to sparkleme26 and trixareforeveryoneaq, and a big thank you to RZZMG for managing the fest.

* * *

Hermione sat at her desk with her head down and her hands tangled in her hair, utterly frustrated. After the war, pushing legislation for magical creatures, discovering new defensive spells for aurors, and fifteen years as Minister of Magic, she had racked up enough of a story for a book, a memoir of sorts. She had just returned from a meeting with her publisher who had _feedback_ to give after reading her most recent draft.

 _"_ _People already know_ what _you did, they want to know_ why _you did it. Yes, yes, you're a good person and you wanted to help people, but this is a book you're trying to sell. What about your time in France before you married Ron? Who sent in those anonymous donations for your campaign for Minister? Why…"_

She had tuned him out at that point, her mind wandering to a part of her past she had long since let go.

Her and Ron had been married for 30 years until the day he had passed away. They had a full, wonderful life with three children and now five grandchildren. She loved their life; she had no regrets with him.

There had been a time, though, that to her now felt like a mere six minutes instead of the six months that it actually was, when the thought of being tied to Ron and having a big family for the rest of her life felt more like a stabbing, terrifying idea.

She was young, only twenty-two, just beginning to dip her toes into her work with magical creatures. Ron had left to travel for a few months with the Chudley Cannons, saying his goodbyes with a promise of getting married and starting their family together upon his return. Later, she was sitting in their apartment, alone. Looking at the photos hung on the wall, she saw she was surrounded by Weasleys. She already felt like she was part of their family. But was she ready to actually join their family? To get married and have children?

Her only-child sense of independence was screaming at her that _no, she wasn't ready yet_. She needed to figure out who she was as Hermione Granger, not Hermione Weasley. She needed time, she needed space, she needed to run.

And so she did.

* * *

Hermione went to work with the French Ministry, renting a cottage near a forest outside Paris. She corresponded with Harry and Ron weekly, updating them on the adventures she had been having exploring Paris and the surrounding areas. They knew her well, understanding her need for some time to be out on her own. She thought this would make her feel less conflicted, but something akin to guilt was nagging at the back of her mind.

The cottage was located near Tulipe, a small wizarding town with one main street and only eight storefronts to speak of. She spent a few nights each week at the local café, reading while sipping at whatever hot drink the waitress recommended that day. That is where she got to know the locals, many of whom had moved there to escape into the anonymity of a small town where outsiders were welcomed as locals. A sense of freedom seemed to float through the town, permeating its inhabitants. She had seen it on their faces, wishing she could feel it as well.

One evening, while flipping through her book, she found a picture tucked into the back, her parents faces smiling up at her with the Sydney Opera House in the background. Tears spilled from her eyes as she sniffled and tightened her grip on the photo.

A pale hand came into view in front of her, offering a handkerchief. She turned to look at the stranger and paused when she realized who it was. There stood Draco Malfoy, looking at her expectantly.

Hermione had seen him walking through the town a few times before. At first she was surprised that he was there, hiding out in Tulipe. He had been found innocent at his trial after the war, but that did not stop the whispers and stares from the other people in whose eyes he was always guilty. Perhaps he needed a small town cloaked in anonymity just as much as she did, maybe even more.

She accepted the handkerchief and wiped her eyes, trying to clear away any tears left to hide her embarrassment. She turned back to thank him, but he nodded his head before she could speak and started to leave. A few feet away, he changed his mind and returned to take a seat across from her.

They talked for a while, about the town, their work at the French Ministry, and what they had been doing the past few years. He didn't ask about the photo and she didn't bring it up. Over the conversation, she realized he had changed; he wasn't the mocking, proud Malfoy she knew back in school anymore. He was someone who was adrift, as if a heavy burden was holding him back.

She had come to Tulipe to discover who she was as Hermione Granger, needing to move on from her identity as the muggle-born war heroine of the wizarding world. Deciding this meant putting the war in the past, including her animosity towards Malfoy, she asked him if they could try to be friends. He hesitated, but begrudgingly agreed to stop by the café a few times when she was there.

Over time, Hermione started noticing him begin to relax more when he was around her. He showed a genuine interest in understanding what her life was like as a muggle before Hogwarts, and opened up to her about his childhood memories, the happier ones when it was just him and his parents traveling the continent during the summers.

A few times he spoke of the adventures he'd had with Crabbe and Goyle in their earlier years at Hogwarts. She would roll her eyes and rattle on about Harry and Ron's reactions to said "adventures" and they would both laugh about how childish they were as teenagers, before all the madness associated with the war had forced them to mature.

There was a mutual understanding and respect between them to not mention the war. If one of them let slip anything related to it, they would drop the conversation, the other picking up on the cue to change the subject. Occasionally her eyes would be drawn to his left forearm, before quickly averting her gaze and hoping he wouldn't notice. She failed to notice he would do the same to her arm, only realizing that his mind had drifted elsewhere when he stopped reacting to what she was saying.

Hermione started to realize how much she was enjoying being friends with Draco. Judging by the way his face lit up when he would greet her, she wondered if perhaps he felt it too. Then she would get a letter from Ron asking how her trip was and it would remind her that her stay was only temporary.

One evening, Draco said he wanted to show her something deep in the forest. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but then agreed after seeing the almost pleading look on his face to trust him. They were walking through a thicket of trees when Hermione realized she could see the sun poking through the branches up ahead. Curious, she hastened to catch up with Draco and stopped when they reached a clearing lit up by the rays of the setting sun.

They were standing in a field of tulips, the different colors looked bright against the soft green of the grass. Draco started to move further into the clearing, grabbing Hermione's hand to get her to follow him. In the center of the pinks, yellows, and purples was a small circle of white tulips.

"Didn't you wonder where Tulipe got its name from?" he asked, turning to look at her and smiling at the wondrous look she wore.

"Draco, this is…it's beautiful here," she said, not realizing he was still holding on to her hand. She turned to look at the white tulips and her eyebrows creased in thought.

"The white tulip is supposed to represent forgiveness. People who move into town usually come out here at least once, as a way of asking for forgiveness for running away. I've come here several times, frustrated because I just wanted other people to learn to forgive and forget…to move on after the war because I'm not who they think I am." he said, his face softening with sadness. "I know we never talk about the war, but, I thought this place might help you."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, then turned to face the circle of tulips. The weight of the war that she was trying so hard to forget suddenly came crashing down on her. "I…" she hesitated, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing. "That first day you ran into me at the café, I was holding a picture of my parents, but…I haven't seen them in at least a year. I betrayed their trust to protect them during the war and, when they found out, they said they understood, that it was okay and they forgave me but…" she trailed off, before turning back to look at Draco.

"Sometimes children do unforgivable things to protect their parents." he said, his tone tinged with regret. He then shifted his gaze to their hands and moved his up her arm slowly, stopping to caress the scar on her forearm. "Hermione…" he started, his voice heavy.

She lifted her free hand to his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. "If you need my forgiveness because you think you have something to apologize for then you have it, but really…I never blamed you, it was an impossible situation, for all of us." she emphasized.

He swallowed heavily before replying, "I appreciate that, coming from you. The truth is though that it doesn't matter how many people say they forgive me." He turned his eyes down to look at the circle of white, as if hoping for something that he knew would never come. "At the end of the day, all that matters is that I will never be able to forgive myself."

Hermione dropped her hand from his face and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her. She felt him rest his head on hers as she buried her head into his shoulder, trying to hold back her tears. Here, standing in this circle of white tulips with him, she realized the only way she was going to have a full life, to let go of the past, was to truly and honestly forgive the one person she couldn't: herself.

* * *

A few weeks later she received a letter from Ron, telling her he was coming home soon and asking if she would be there when he returned. She had convinced herself that the best thing she could do to move on from what happened with her parents and start forgiving herself was to not avoid them, and promised to visit them several times a year to mend their relationship.

She felt like she owed Draco a reason for needing to leave, but then wondered why he couldn't just come back with her and transfer to the British Ministry. She ran to meet him at the café, and as she was sitting there waiting, she saw him across the street, hugging goodbye to a tall woman with dark hair before escorting her to the apparition point. Hermione felt a tinge of jealousy, and it was then she realized how guilty she felt. They were just friends, she didn't owe him anything; she had a full life waiting for her back home.

She really did love Ron and the Weasley family, and so she chose to lock away the memories of France, letting go of something that was out of her control.

She didn't hear anything about Draco until a few years later, when he and Astoria married and moved to Wiltshire. They occasionally saw each other at the ministry, but they never spoke directly, only exchanging glances for a brief second before suddenly remembering they had somewhere they needed to be.

A fundraiser gala was held before she started her first campaign for Minister of Magic. By the end of the evening she was amazed at how many galleons had been raised. When she saw that over 70% of it was from a single donor, she had looked up from her clipboard and questioned who would care that much. From across the room she locked eyes with Draco, sipping on his glass of firewhiskey, wearing a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

* * *

Back to focusing on her memoir, she pulled her hands out of her hair and sighed, resigning herself to add a chapter about her time in France. Draco had helped her learn about the importance of forgiving oneself, rather than waiting for other people to do it for you. She didn't know how he would feel about his involvement with her campaign being publicized, and thus decided to leave him anonymous.

A week after her book was published, she was cleaning up in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. Curious, she went to answer, opening the door to see Draco standing there. Now in his sixties, his hair was longer and tinged with gray and he was holding her book in his hand. An unreadable look passed between them as Hermione opened the door wider to let him in.

He set the book down on the coffee table as she shut the door and turned to look at him expectantly. He took her small hand in his and held it as he lifted his other hand to hold up a white tulip. She stared at it, reaching up to take the flower from him. As she touched the tulip, it turned a vibrant shade of red. She looked up, locking eyes with him as each of their lips turned up into a smile, silent words passing between them as they both knew what a red tulip meant: love.

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A/N: Let me know what you think? :)


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